


You kiss him down the hall and through the room and onto the bed.

by hakura0



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 19:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakura0/pseuds/hakura0
Summary: You don't know what you're doing.It's an easy enough thing to admit - in bed, under blankets, his skin against yours. "I have to admit that I have no idea what I'm doing."





	You kiss him down the hall and through the room and onto the bed.

You don't know what you're doing.

It's an easy enough thing to admit - in bed, under blankets, his skin against yours. "I have to admit that I have no idea what I'm doing."

He tells you he doesn't care, and you can understand that. It's hard to believe that anything can feel better than this already does. Than his mouth warm on your neck, the little shudder that runs up his spine the first time you draw your fingertips against the heat of his dick.

You explore, and he doesn't stop you. Doesn't instruct. He is holding onto your shoulder for dear life, and you just barely glimpse the way that his eyes roll back into his head before he closes them when you wrap your hand around him, not-electricity jolting through you between that and the way your own now-hard length brushes against his thigh.

"Fuck, *Cas*," is all that comes to his lips, and there is a tightness to him still, but there is nothing in his tone that says doubt. Nothing in the room that says anything but want, want, need.

So you keep moving, tracing your fingers through the curly hairs at his base, up his stomach and chest, and you find yourself grinding against him the same way he shifts so that your hand brushes his nipple. You press your hand flat against him, before moving past, stopping to examine it, to take in the small scar there and lower your head to kiss it. His hand moves, fingers gripping your hair and you remember the feeling of his mouth on your neck, and suck, and the noise he makes is something like gasoline on a flame.

"Okay," he tells you, half-distracted and almost guilty, and pulling your head away. "Okay."

"I didn't-" you start to say, to apologize, but he kisses you and cuts the words off at the start. 

"If you don't fuck me, you are going to drive me insane," he promises, and his words come with his hand trailing down your chest this time, mirroring your own travels to wrap around your dick. It feels indescribable, the same way everything else does, and his expression is almost pained after a moment's thought, like there's a calculation he's running and he doesn't like the decision he's made. 

He brings his hand to his mouth and sucks on two fingers, eyes meeting yours, and it shouldn't send another tingle down you but it does. You run a hand along his thigh, tentative, but he doesn't stop that, just takes the hand with the slicked fingers and reaches it down and underneath himself, and winces pushes them against.

"You are way too big to take when I ha- haven't-" he tries to offer, breath catching and free hand holding your arm like a vise. He arches, and it makes him move enough for you to see his finger vanishing inside of him.

"Let me," you intended to ask, but there's no question in it. You offer your fingers to him when he starts to say that you don't have to, and he opens his mouth obediently to suck on them instead. The sensation makes you push yourself against his thigh again, but after barely a second he lets you go. 

As he pulls his finger out you watch, hesitating for just a moment before he takes your hand to guide you into his hole. He's tight and hot around your fingers, his ass offering up resistance at each knuckle that tries to enter, but he pushes himself against you, takes your wrist and pulls until your fingers are inside of him completely and he is moaning your name, his dick twitching visibly as your fingertips knock against some part of him. 

He holds you there as he grinds on your fingers, and you aren't sure that it's conscious, aren't sure that the idea of that feeling around you isn't going to push you over some edge.

"Dean," you start, bare want in your voices and it seems to bring him back to something like his senses, and there is something like guilt in his eyes when he does that makes you press harder against that bundle of nerves, and makes him cry out, any words indecipherable as he cums warm and sticky against your stomach, clinging for dear life. 

You lean to kiss him, not quite moving your hand and his mouth finds yours eagerly. You start to move your hand and he gasps into your mouth, just a little as you pull your fingers out, bringing your hand to stroke his no longer hard cock.

His hand moves to yours again and you arch your back, gripping him harder out of reflex. When you start to pull back from the kiss the corners of his eyes are damp with tears of exhaustion or relief or something else, but you can feel him growing harder in your hand, and he shifts underneath you, starting to guide your dick inside of him.

The realization is enough for you to take over, and as soon as you can feel his tightness squeezing the head of your dick you thrust in one long needy movement, leaving only the base for his to grasp as he cries out your name again, a chain of expletives elevated to prayer you're barely aware of for the stars starting to bud to life behind your eyes and the way the feeling of him around you completely overwhelms.

You move because you have to, because his hand moves to the small of your back and encourages you to, because it feels like nothing you have felt in all the time that you have been. You find a rhythm of fast, eager, rough strokes, each one increasing the intensity of the feeling, his fingers digging into your back as he bites your shoulder to muffle the noises he is making.

It feels like a second and like an eternity before the world explodes in waves of pleasure and you hold him as tightly as he is you. He arches a moment later, squeezes tighter yet around you, and the second wave of pleasure is shorter and shallower, but winds you all the same.

It takes everything that you have to pull out, to fall to the bed beside him before pulling him back into an embrace, mind wiped all but blank. You can feel him shaking, head burrowed into the crook of your neck, and you manage to bring enough thoughts together for a single word, "Dean?" and he shakes his head as much as his position will afford, murmuring, voice thick that he's okay - so you hold him tighter and let the world turn beneath you.


End file.
